


Get me out of my mind, and get you out of those clothes

by BatmanWhoLaughss



Series: Kanera Prompts [7]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: F/M, Gratuitous Smut, Idiots in Love, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Shameless Smut, Smut, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:34:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27465010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BatmanWhoLaughss/pseuds/BatmanWhoLaughss
Summary: Tumblr Prompt fromthis list#108: If you leave the house wearing that then the second you come home I'm bending you over the bed & #287: I've been thinking about this all nightHe forgets about the mission almost immediately. He forgets that they’re meant to be working and forgets that they have to leave if they want to get there on time. He forgets about everything that isn’t the way she looks in that dress and how badly he wants to get her out of it.Or: the obligatory "undercover in fancy dress" fic
Relationships: Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla
Series: Kanera Prompts [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1845700
Comments: 16
Kudos: 71





	Get me out of my mind, and get you out of those clothes

**Author's Note:**

> Every ship needs a good "undercover in fancy dress fic, so I wrote one. and this prompt list is SO GREAT. Enjoy ;)

It’s not the weirdest job they’ve ever pulled, but it’s definitely different from their usual missions.

Kanan is in the cockpit of the Ghost, pulling at the uncomfortable collar of the suit he’s been forced to wear for the occasion. Apparently Fulcrum got some intel on an arms dealer sympathetic to non-Imperial customers, and he was sending them undercover to meet him. Kanan grumbled about it when Hera told him, but ultimately he agreed. It seemed like a low-stakes mission, and he had to admit that the prospect of decent food and drink and maybe the chance to actually enjoy themselves for an evening is an enticing one. It’s so rare that he and Hera get nights off, and even though they’re _technically_ on the job, he’s starting to think this might be fun... 

...Right up until he stands up from the copilot’s chair and the cape he’s wearing catches on one of the dashboard levers, that is. The cape is one piece of this getup that he’s very much _not_ a fan of. It’s not his style, and it feels uncomfortably similar to a very different time in his life when long cloaks were par for the course for him. Hera said that he’d look out of place without one, though, so he just grimaced and grabbed it with a loud sigh.

“Damn it,” he mutters. “Don’t know how people wear these things.”

“You and me both,” says a voice from behind him. “This dress is horribly impractical.”

He turns around, about to tell Hera that the Phantom is prepped and ready to go, when his brain screeches to a halt completely and any response dies in his throat. 

Hera’s wearing a deep burgundy dress that hugs her body in all the places usually obscured by her flight suit. The neckline forms a low v on her chest and a small pendant rests on the skin left bare. A slit runs up her left leg, stopping mid-thigh and leaving very little to the imagination. There’s a gold stripe within the red that wraps up and around her side, and the color perfectly matches the cap that wraps around her head. Small streaks of gold trail down her lekku and the pattern catches the light at just the right angle so her whole head sparkles brightly. And it’s as if Hera’s _trying_ to kill him, because as she turns, slightly, in the middle of slipping a knife into the concealed holster on her thigh, he sees that the dress is backless. 

He forgets about the mission almost immediately. He forgets that they’re meant to be working and forgets that they have to leave if they want to get there on time. He forgets about everything that isn’t the way she looks in that dress and how badly he wants to get her out of it. Some part of his mind unhelpfully reminds him that it’s been a _while_ since they last slept together, and it only adds to how dumbstruck and speechless and _infuriatingly_ turned on he is. 

Kanan stares at her with a slack-jawed expression that resembles a man who just lost an _exceptionally_ bad hand of sabacc. He thinks she might call his name–maybe a few times, but it isn’t until she snaps her fingers in front of his face with a small smile that he snaps out of his daze. 

“Hey,” he says, and he flushes slightly at the way he stutters. His pants suddenly feel uncomfortably tight, and suddenly he wants nothing more than for this to be over quickly. 

“Hey yourself,” Hera laughs, in that voice that never fails to rev his engines, no matter what she’s saying. She’s smirking, with a familiar sparkle in her eyes as she walks over to him and adjusts his cape a bit. She’s wearing makeup too, her lips stained a dark color that matches the dress exactly. 

“You look–” He swallows, and she must notice the way his eyes are blown wide because her smirk gets a little bigger. “You look amazing,” he says. He’s coming out of his stupor now, trailing his eyes up and down her body in a move that’s anything but subtle. It still amazes him, sometimes, that after so many years with her she could still wind him up at the drop of a hat, to the point where he wants to drop everything and drag her towards the nearest bunk.

“You don’t look so bad either, handsome,” Hera murmurs, reaching up to drag his face to hers. And _oh,_ that’s a signal, as clear as they come, and even if he couldn’t feel the spike in her desire he would know those insistent kisses anywhere. 

They really do need to leave, but that’s not going to stop him from dragging his lips down her jaw to find her pulse point. “You’re beautiful,” he mumbles against the side of her neck. Then his kisses reverse, trailing up her face until his lips are right up against her earcone, and he knows she can feel his smirk against her skin.

Kanan tightens his grip where his hands have settled on her hips. “You know,” he starts, and he feels her shudder as his breath tickles her ear. “If you leave the ship looking like this, I’m bending you over the nearest bunk the second we get home.” 

It makes her laugh, but it comes out slightly breathless as he presses a kiss against her lips again. His eyes are harder now, and there’s a promise in them that makes her shiver again. It sends a small thrill through him, the way he feels the punch of _want_ cut through the Force around them. But she grins back at him as she pulls away, taking his hand and leading him towards the Phantom. “Promises, promises, love. But let’s get this over with first.”

He revises his earlier thought. This isn’t going to be fun at all. It’s going to be torture.

* * *

All things considered, this is a really boring job.

They made it to the party reasonably quickly, but it takes a little longer than she thought it would. She couldn’t concentrate, not when she could feel Kanan staring at her and all she could think about was the words he whispered into her ear.

They echo in her head even now, as she sips at a glass of champagne and watches him make conversation with a Sullustan over by the bar. He looks _distressingly_ good in the suit he’s wearing, and for all his talk about how he wouldn’t fit in here, he’s blending surprisingly well. He’s playing the part of a rich thrill-seeker, melting into the role better than she hoped. He’s got that easy, laid-back smile that oozes charm from every pore, and as she meets his eyes across the room, he winks at her. 

_Force,_ this is going to be a long couple hours. Because as good as he looks in that suit, she wants this damn arms dealer to _just fucking show up already_ so she can drag him home and toss it on the floor of her ship. 

“Anything yet?” Kanan materializes at her side, almost like he read her mind– and with those Jedi senses of his, maybe he did. 

“No,” Hera grumbles, a little too angrily. “These shoes are killing me,” she adds on, when he raises an eyebrow. But she blushes a little, and Kanan’s smirk gets a little bigger. His hand reaches for hers as he sips at his own drink, his thumb tracing circles along the back of her hand. 

It still amazes her sometimes, how he makes her feel. They’ve been together for so long now, but that spark that burns brightly between them never seemed to die. It’s still there, and right now it’s been stoked into a fire by the things he said to her on the ship. The flames are settling into a low simmer of desire in the pit of her stomach. 

“He’ll be here,” Kanan says. “Fulcrum hasn’t steered you wrong yet.” 

“I know, but–”

He bends down close to her earcone. “Distracted?” The heat in his voice is downright _sinful,_ and it makes her knees wobble a bit. She blames the heels.

But the way her breath hitches is a clear sign, and he chuckles softly. 

He always did like messing with her while they pulled jobs. She knows he’s trying to rile her up on purpose, but she can hear the intent behind it all the same. “That dress does look _ridiculously_ sexy on you, you know.” His voice is so low that even the people standing near them can’t hear him. Normally she would mutter something about staying focused during a mission, but right now she doesn’t even care. “Maybe I won’t even wait ‘til we get home. Have half a mind to find a spare storage closet and have my way with you right here.”

It’s not _fair_ , the things he can make her feel, it really isn't. A small groan escapes her lips, as much as she tries to hide it, and she feels him smile again. She’s torn between telling him to shut up and worry about finding their target and telling him to _keep talking and don’t ever stop_ . He’s told her before that he loves her voice, but _his_ never fails to wake her up in all the right ways. 

But before she can say anything at all, Kanan bumps her shoulder. “Look alive,” he says, and immediately he’s back to business. “Seems like our guy just arrived.” 

Oh, this _has_ to be some special, sadistic form of torture, and Hera can’t help but groan again. “I _hate_ you,” she growls.

He laughs, a real, full one as he takes her by the arm and they make their way over to their arms dealer. “Nah. You don’t.”

* * *

The mission goes off without a hitch, and Hera’s pleasantly surprised that they didn’t run into any issues getting in and out quickly. The contact was more than amenable, promising Fulcrum a new shipment of blasters sometime within the next two rotations. Of course, the way the man’s eyes were roaming up and down her body didn’t escape her notice, but she’s grown used to ignoring that over the years. Kanan seemed to be having a harder time, judging from the way his grip on her arm stayed tense during the whole exchange.

When the Phantom finally docks with the Ghost, she’s practically giddy– in pain from those damn _shoes_ , but otherwise relaxed and slightly buzzed from the extra glass of champagne. She snagged it from a passing waiter when she realized she was having trouble getting Kanan’s voice to stop reverberating inside her head. 

They don’t say much as they make their way towards the bunks, but the adrenaline and anticipation is keeping Hera coiled like a spring. The mission comes first, though, and she steps away from Kanan, intent on finding Chopper in the cockpit and checking in on him, even if it means staying in these heels a little bit longer. 

Before she can, though, Kanan grabs her hand, tugs her against him, and presses a scorching kiss against her lips. 

His mouth drives every thought from her mind as it moves against hers, and his hands wander up her back to feel the bare skin there. She shudders in his arms as her arms wrap around his neck. 

The fire is back, and any lingering tiredness she felt has instantly evaporated. She’s suddenly wide awake, her whole body swimming with want and need and love for him that slams into her in one giant wave. She shifts against him as she feels her back hit the wall, and when his hands come up to cup her breasts she can’t hold back the needy whimper. 

“ _Kanan.”_ It comes out as a whisper, a plea, but for what, she doesn’t know. Any capacity for rational thought is rapidly diminishing, and it vanishes completely as his lips trail down the side of her neck. When he sucks a mark into the base of her throat, right at her pulse point, she moans his name again. “Love, _please_ –”

It should be embarrassing, how quickly he can reduce her to a needy _mess_ like this, but right now she doesn’t care. She can feel all of him, pressed up against her front as his hips rock against her. He’s half-hard already, and he lets out a moan of his own as her hips move to meet his. 

He brings his mouth back up to meet hers. “ _Fuck_ , I’ve been thinking about this all night.” It comes out as a low growl, before his lips claim hers in another bruising, hungry kiss. The way his hands move betrays a plea of his own, and she can’t help but match his movements with hers. She’s been ready for him since before they left that party, and she’s just as desperate as he is. One hand trails down between his legs to palm the bulge in his pants, and he lets out a shaky sigh as his head drops to her chest. 

He’s pressing kisses against the skin left bare by the dress when she lets out a shaky laugh, unable to resist ribbing him a bit. “What have I told you about– oh, _kriff_ – focusing on the mission?”

He’s getting impatient, and he backs them up across the hall until they’re inside one of the bunks. She doesn’t know if it’s his or hers, but she doesn’t care, not when he’s dragging one strap of the dress off her shoulder and dragging his mouth across her skin. She couldn’t wear a bra under it, and Kanan’s eyes droop to half mast when one breast comes free. He wastes no time, closing his mouth around her nipple and drawing another throaty moan from her lips. 

He must feel her own impatience growing, because he laughs, the sound vibrating against her chest and sending a pulse down right to where she needs him. “You give me far too much credit if you expect me to stay focused when you look like _this_.” His hand reaches up to tug the gold cap off of her head, being careful not to tear the fabric but insistent all the same. 

They move closer to the bed, and Kanan’s mouth claims hers again as the other strap falls off her shoulder. But then suddenly he moves, turning her so her back is against his chest and his erection is pressed against her ass. He has full access to her throat from this position, and he takes advantage, using everything he knows about her body against her to play it like a fine-tuned instrument. His tongue lavishes her pulse point, and one hand comes back to her breast as the other strokes a lek from root to tip. It’s too much; all she knows and feels is _Kanan_ , his warm breath against her skin and his hips rocking slowly against her ass. The pleasure is so sudden, so intense it’s overwhelming, and her knees nearly give out entirely as he touches her. 

She’s putty in his hands, the dress falling to hang loose around her waist so her torso is completely bare. He groans as his mouth finds a lek, kissing a path to her earcone. She keeps up the grind of her hips against his core, and his hands come up to hold her still as he moans again. “All I could think about was getting you out of this damn dress. Getting my hands on you and making you come until you can’t see straight.” He’s got that sinful tone in his voice again. It makes her _whimper_ , and if he couldn’t feel how badly she wanted him before, she’s sure he can now. 

Finally, Hera’s had enough, and she turns around to face him, tugging the cape off his shoulders and going for the buttons of his shirt. “Too many clothes,” she says, and it’s somewhere between a demand and a whine as she moves to slide it off. A moment later his chest is bare, and she can’t help but smirk as she rakes her nails down his torso just the way he likes. Her hands are shaking as they struggle to undo his belt, but then he groans, his impatience getting the better of him. He spins her around again, so she’s pressed against his back, before his hand finds her shoulder blades and he pushes her down onto the mattress. 

“Love, please.” She doesn’t know what he’s planning, but her whole body _aches_ for him, so strongly that it’s almost painful. 

Kanan laughs, dark and dangerous as his hand keeps her pinned. The other one slowly pulls the dress up and over her ass, skimming closer and closer to the wetness between her thighs as she moans. “I promised, didn’t I?” he says, leaning down to press open-mouthed kisses against her shoulder. And _oh_ , that’s not fair, because his words from before come bubbling back to the surface of her mind just as his fingers slip inside her underwear to find her core for the first time. And it makes her _scream_ , because she’s so wet and needy and desperate for him that she shatters the second his finger slips inside her. 

She trembles with the force of it, but he’s already moving again, withdrawing his hand to drag her underwear down her legs and throw it across the room. She would yell at him if she wasn’t busy moaning his name over and over again, muttering nonsense as her hands fist in the sheets. She’s dimly aware of those blasted uncomfortable shoes being removed from her feet. 

Kanan laughs again, and he leans down so his chest is pressed against her back. “So many men couldn’t take their eyes off you,” he mutters, pressing soft kisses against her shoulder as her shaking ebbs. 

Hera manages a breathy laugh, reaching up to thread her fingers through his hair. “Jealous?”

One hand reaches over to twine with hers. “Hard to be jealous when I’ve got you in my bed,” he laughs. The kisses continue, slow and tender and _maddening_ after the earth-shattering orgasm she just had. “Doesn’t mean I liked it.” His erection brushes against her core and she whimpers again, rocking back to meet him as he lets out a hiss. 

His mouth moves down her back, kissing lower and lower until his head dips below the fabric at her waist. And then his tongue finds the spot between her legs that makes her cry out again, a garbled scream that morphs from _Kanan_ to _fuck_ to something in Ryl that might be a prayer or a swear. Maybe it’s both. He’s relentless, eagerly lapping at her core like his sole purpose is to rip her apart at the seams. His tongue swirls around her clit in small circles as two fingers plunge back inside her.

It’s too much and not enough at the same time, and Hera thinks she might actually die right here as his fingers and tongue turn her into a writhing, needy mess again in a matter of minutes. Normally, this would be too fast, the pleasure too much for her already overstimulated senses, but this time is inexplicably different. She’s still talking, egging him on with soft moans of his name. 

He’s always _so_ good to her, and she knows he won’t stop until he gets her off, but suddenly she wants _more_. She’s been thinking about this since they left the Ghost; listening to his voice on a loop for hours was all the foreplay she needed. She taps his arm, a wordless signal to stop. 

Kanan pulls away immediately, before leaning back down so his head rests in the crook of her neck. “You okay?” She can hear the worry in his voice, and fucking _hells_ , she loves him, she really does. But he’s _still wearing pants._

“Kanan,” she says, in that tone she knows drives him wild. “I want you inside me.”

He lets out a strangled moan and nods against her neck. She tries to twist around to face him, but his hands tighten their grip, holding her in place. “No,” he mumbles, dragging his teeth across her shoulder before nipping at her pulse point in a motion that makes her yelp. “Want you like this.”

That draws another gasp from her lips and she can’t help but nod at him as she hears his belt unsnap. “Yes,” she breathes, as the fabric around her waist falls away to pool at her feet. “Yes.” There’s a rustle of fabric behind her as he kicks his pants and basics off. She arches her spine to press her ass against him, and then the head of his cock is pressing against her core and she surrenders herself completely under his hands.

“ _Hera.”_ It’s a needy whine, but there’s a question there, too.

“ _Yes,_ love.” She loves him and she trusts him and there’s nothing in the entire kriffing galaxy quite like the way he makes her feel.

When he’s all the way inside, he stills, leaning down to press his forehead into the spot between her shoulders. One hand reaches up to palm a lek, stroking lightly from root to tip just the way she likes. She arches against him again, gasping as pleasure spreads through her whole body like liquid fire, and from the way he moans, she knows he can feel it too. He’sl impossibly still, so she twitches her hips just slightly and he responds with another breathy gasp of her name.

Then he’s moving, slowly pulling back before _snapping_ his hips forward in a firm thrust that makes her moan again. It’s a sharp spike of pleasure that makes her whole body shiver, and when he does it again her hands claw at the bedsheets. 

Kanan leans down to press his mouth against her lekku as his hips move faster, and it isn’t long before she’s practically unraveling underneath his hands. He sets a slow pace at first, dragging his fingertips up her back in a motion that’s almost ticklish, but pretty soon he’s moving faster and faster until his hips are smacking against hers with every stroke. 

He presses on her shoulder blades to push her further into the mattress, and it changes the angle of their rocking hips _just_ enough to let him push inside even deeper. It draws out a moan from both of them. “ _Force,_ you’re beautiful,” Kanan groans, in between thrusts. “You look so good, taking my cock like this.” 

“Kanan.” She wishes she could see his face, but his hand still keeps her pinned. He’s always been the one with the filthy mouth in bed, and it never fails to drive her crazy. He nips at her shoulder again, and her whole body practically sings as she feels the wave of pleasure about to crest again. “Fuck me, _please_ , love, I need you.” It’s probably cheating, to egg him on like this, when he’s told her time and time again that she could get him off with words alone. But his uncanny ability to know _exactly_ what she needs at any given moment prevails, and he moves to draw the tip of one lek into his mouth. A few more hard thrust of his hips and then the wave of pleasure finally crests as her body goes rigid all over. 

She comes back to reality a few minutes later, when she feels Kanan’s hand trail down her arm to twine with her own. It’s another moment before she regains enough higher brain function to speak, but when she does, she squeezes his hand. “C’mon love. Need to move.” They’re not done– he’s still achingly hard inside her and trembling with need, but her knees are cramping and she _needs_ to kiss that blasted smile right off his face.

He freezes, pulling back to let her sit upright. “Need to stop?” he asks, tenderly. 

Hera shakes her head, shifting away from him and sitting on the mattress. “Get up here.”

The smile gets bigger. “Yes ma’am,” he says, and hurriedly moves where she wants him. Hera shifts so that he’s lying underneath her, and those brilliant teal eyes of his sparkle with desire in the light. Her mouth claims his as his hands frame her face, and the frantic heat of the moment ebbs for a few minutes as their tongues move in a slow, luxurious dance. 

“We should take jobs like this more often,” Hera muses in between kisses.

Kanan laughs, a light, happy sound that she never tires of hearing. “I wouldn’t complain. But if you wear this dress again, I will be utterly _useless_ to you, Captain.” 

“You were plenty distracting in that suit, Jedi,” she says, as her hips start up a slow grind against his again. 

“Love you,” he whispers, pressing kisses along her jaw. 

“Love you, too.” And then she sinks slowly down onto him as she finds his lips again. 

This time, it’s slow, the earlier wildness giving way into something _more_ , something deep and raw that takes the both of them by surprise. He grabs her hips, letting her ride him as her hands trace patterns across his chest. They move together in between whispered breaths of the other’s name, in between murmured _I love you’s_ and _I need you’s_ and _don’t stop’s_. And this time when Hera feels the pleasure start to build to a crescendo one more time she can tell that he’s close, too. When she comes one last time, it’s like liquid warmth spreading through her whole body, and it’s only a moment before he tenses up all over and spills himself inside her. 

Hera flops bonelessly against his chest as they both struggle to catch their breath. His fingers are drawing circles on her back, and hers reach up to brush a few stray hairs out of his face. 

When they both regain enough strength to move, Kanan reaches for the bottom drawer and pulls out a towel. They clean themselves up in a hurry, before tossing the rag on the floor and settling back against the pillow. 

Hera kisses his cheek as he pulls the blanket up and over both of them. His eyes are already closed, but he opens them briefly to peer at her. “We’re gonna need to rendezvous with Fulcrum in the morning,” she says. “And you’re making me breakfast.”

“Am I now?” Kanan chuckles.

“Yep.” She kisses his nose. “And there _may_ be time for an extra-long shower before we have to check in.” 

That makes him laugh again, as he pulls her tightly against him. “I’m holding you to that.”

They both drift off to sleep shortly after that, her head resting against his chest and his arm around her waist. And Hera can’t help but think that the next time Fulcrum asks them to dress up for a fancy party, she won’t be quite so upset about it.


End file.
